Often, as a white male, I can feel out of place when talking about issues of race — maybe I haven’t suffered enough or survived enough adversity? It feels like it is not my place to say something even if it is in favor of the accused. I want to show support but not overstep my boundaries. But I know one thing; I do not need to be black to know when there is injustice. I do not need to be black to be angry for the deaths of others.

To give the term Blacks Lives Matter credibility, you have to accept one fact about our society: black lives often do not matter. It is a fact that black people are marginalized in our judicial, educational, and civil structures starting from the Brown vs Board case to the murder of Trayvon Martin. According to Mapping Police Violence a black person is three times more likely to be killed by a police officer while only one in three of those victims are armed. Ninety-seven percent of these cases never involve a police officer being charged. The NAACP provides that African-Americans are six times more likely to be incarcerated than whites. Even more unsettling, black people make up 12 percent of drug users in the general population, but 59 percent of those are in state prisons for drug offences.

The evidence seems irrefutable and convincing — yet there is still a lack of support for the Black Lives Matter movement. This opposition stems from white people being threatened by the word “black”. There is an undoubtedly negative connotation with the word. Most white people would like to believe that we have moved past racism, segregation, and discrimination. We have not. The word “black” brings back what we would like to leave in the past– division, segregation, and hate. Still, racism exists today.

We would prefer to believe that we do not see color and therefore have no recollection of racial divide. “African-American” is in our comfort zone; we have erased any memory of discrimination on skin color and have made the centuries-old problem digestible. Black is a scary concept for white people because it is so broad and encompassing. It represents so many intangible struggles and strengths. It creates a quite literal divide: white vs. black.

This divide makes it even more difficult for a white person to enter in support. It feels like I am crossing an age-old divide, and I feel out of place. But being uncomfortable is a small inconvenience compared to years of discrimination suffered by African Americans. I cannot be afraid to show my support because I think that it is not my place. My place is exactly where I stand now on the side of the oppressed. This is bigger than myself. This is bigger than any backlash I might receive.

I am placed in group that is disgusted by the deaths of others and repulsed by such institutionalized racism. A group that is discontent with the state of race relations in America. This group transcends and includes all races, sexualities, genders, and political opinions. This is not just a fight for black people. This is a fight for everyone. This is a stand to show we expect more from ourselves and each other.

This group stands with the words of Nobel Peace Prize winner Desmond Tutu: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”